  Down the bright pathway of life, where joy, like the throstle, was singing, She passed, like a sungleam at dawn, through mistlands of sorrows and fears, Seeking the soul of the babe at her bosom now nursing and clinging, And stood in the valley of death, gloomed with the shadow of tears. Ghost glided past after ghost, and shook ghastly arms at the mortal Who dared to the valley of pain go down for the winning of life. Hour after hour trembled by, as we crouched in our woe at the portal, Made strangers to her whom we loved by strangers who looked on her strife. Angels spake hope to her there, as she stood in the vale of the shadow, Demons snarled at her heels, she was haunted by visions abhorred; Seeking the soul of her child. She was brave, for her trust was the Lord. Death turned his sword as she came, and she passed through the gateways of heaven, Treading the pavements of pearl and haloed with shimmering gleams, On, till the veil hung between immortal and mortal was riven, And she brought from the garden of God the blue-eyed flower of her dreams. |
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